


any hope

by phasma



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, M/M, a song fic so sue me, one-sided pining so sad but so relatable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 03:51:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7298371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phasma/pseuds/phasma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>set after a new hope, in which luke hates himself for loving han, but han doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	any hope

**Author's Note:**

> suck my ass, i will never get over song fics. lana del rey-lift your eyes.

 

_Should have let me know that I never had a chance at all_

 

 

By the force, is Han a prick. Of all the mangy, crude, egotistical men out there, Luke is stuck with the stubborn one. The one that won’t change for thousand credits (okay, so maybe he’d change in that case, though it probably won’t be very promising). Sometimes, a very selfish part in him wishes Han never came back. Let the whole galaxy fall prey to the Empire, so long as Luke doesn’t have to fall prey to Han’s… everything. Is it flirting? Is it teasing? Whatever it is, Luke knows it’s always in jest, and he knows Han’s never going to see him as someone to actually flirt with. Damn the smuggler for ever reigniting the ember that was almost completely blown out.

 

 

_I could never be what you wanted_

 

 

Han does have his moments, and Luke both cherishes and loaths them. There are nights when Luke will be jostled awake in his little Rebel-issued bunk by a heaping figure, reminding Luke about special events that are to come with morning. Whenever Luke lets Han know that he doesn’t need the memo, and that he was actually in the calming clutches of sleep already, Han bullshits some spiel about “Captain’s duties” and the like. There are also times where Luke will be in jovial conversation with some other Rebel soldier, and Han will think it all fine and dandy to come over and join in with his own two-cents about whatever topic is being discussed. While slinging a completely platonic and completely volatile arm around Luke’s shoulders.

 

 

_Should have let me know that you're still thinking about her_

 

 

But Luke knows better than to read into those. Sure, he’s never had a best friend before, since his life on Tatooine called for distance between most of the people he knew. But it doesn’t take a genius to know when someone is just being friendly, is just the kind of person to invest themselves a lot in people once they’ve opened up to them. It also doesn’t take a genius to notice when people who are usually easy going and cordial become stiff and callous around the person their heart’s set on. A person like Leia.

 

 

_Should have told me you was haunted_

 

 

What kills Luke is that he doesn’t blame Han. Hell, he doesn’t blame Leia. She’s possibly the first object of Han’s “affections” that doesn’t melt at the sight of him, that really offers him a challenge. Luke admires and respects her for it, among other things. But the selfish part of him still speaks to him, still eats away at him no matter how hard he tries to will it away. It contemplates how things would have turned out, had he and Han and Chewie and Ben had turned around at the absence of Alderaan and that was the end of the story. Possibly the beginning of a whole new one, that was just about living their lives and not living for a cause. Luke knows a part of Han thinks about that too, though probably not for the same reasons.

 

 

_Sometimes I wonder why_

 

 

It wasn’t like Han let on that he had any thoughts about coming back. Though he did seem happy, and even though most of it is a Force-addled fog to Luke, he swears he remembers being able to hear Han’s smile through the commlink. Being able to feel it. Such a sensation has never made a reappearance, and it’s because Han’s loyalty seems so genuine now. But Luke’s mind is riddled with what if’s now, so what’s stopping him from picturing a scenario where Han pulls out the dramatics again and threatens to leave, only to come back with a daring rescue and a connection to Luke that words couldn’t even describe.

 

 

_Why I even bother tryin' to pull you out, boy_

 

 

So Luke festers in a toxic stew he made for himself, laced with all the memories and instances and cocky jeers that fail to die out. Luke hates himself for it, and he hates pretending like he’s not blaming everyone around him for causing him heartache. Especially Han. Force knows how awful a person he can be, and has always been. Why did Luke have to be right about expecting more from him?

 

 

_Should have let me know I would lose you to the drink_

 

 

It’s quiet now, though not in real time, thankfully. Luke’s gotten the hang of tuning-out extraneous noises when he meditates, but lately he’s noticed that it happens when he just gets lost in his thoughts. The timing isn’t always the best. Here he’d been, sitting with Han inside the Falcon’s hold with nothing in between them but a chess table, an empty bottle of whiskey, and about ten minutes worth of complaining from Han’s end. And he’s managed to miss all of it, which means that the only thing he can do at Han’s questioning pause is stare right back at him like a dull mirror.

 

 

_Lift your eyes, just a little higher_

 

 

“Sorry, what were you saying?” The reality of the awkward silence kicks in, and Luke knows that it’s on him to break it.

 

“Pfft, I knew you weren’t paying attention. I was talking about the princess. Seems like she’s really warming up to me, you know? I was wondering if you’d noticed anything.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Of course this was what Han was talking about, what else would he be talking about? If Luke’s beating himself senseless from the inside over a buffoon like Han, just think of what said buffoon is going through over the _princess._

 

 

_Just a little higher_

 

 

“You’ve noticed anything? Or wait, better yet, has she said anything?”

 

They’re both drunk. They’re both delaying their speech and their responses, so Luke doesn’t have to worry about thinking up a lie on the spot. Would it really help him to lie, though? Because of course Leia hasn’t said anything about Han, and of course the only thing Luke’s noticed is just how plain goofy Han gets when he’s around her, but would those really be things a friend would say?

 

“You make a fool out of yourself and Leia doesn’t breathe a word. Probably out of pity.”

 

Han probably prefers honest friends anyway.

  


_Lift those eyes_

 

 

“Why you little…” Han has the pure aggression that emanates from the way he stands up finish his sentence for him. He crosses the few feet over to Luke and plants a hand hard on the table in front of him. Luke holds his breath. “And what about you, huh? You don’t get a little funny in the head whenever the she’s around?”

 

Oh really, this is where Han wants to go? With a dismissive scoff, Luke bats Han’s arm away and crosses his own, challenging the man. “Unlike some, I’m pretty good at keeping crushes under control.” Lying to himself.

 

“So you have a crush on her too? That’s just great.” Hearing the word “too” in there makes Luke’s head go even fuzzier, and not in a good way. Everything inside his head seems shaken and jumbled now. What’s interesting is that the part of Luke that wants to keep him from seeing Han in distressed seems to be fueled, in part, by alcohol. He makes an addendum to the conversation he immediately regrets.

 

“I never said I have a crush on her.”

 

 

_And look into mine_

 

 

Static. It’s all frozen and running miles a minute at the same time, for the few seconds Luke has before Han stares right into his skull. And Luke can’t look away. He’s trapped himself, his words having materialized in thin air and chaining his eyes to Han’s. He knows he knows. A grown man wouldn’t get this worked up over another man’s crush unless he knew it had to with him. Thankfully, Luke can feel Han’s denial through their tense connection, and his only wish now is to make Han believe the living shit out of it.

 

 

_Because I can guide you_

 

 

“Why do you need to keep it under control?” Not the question Luke was expecting, not the one he was preparing to answer in a way that throws Han off track. Now he’s in a real bind. He probably has to answer with the truth. His tongue would probably turn to complete mush otherwise.

 

“Because it might be love, and love is too much to ask from this person.” Han has his answer. The denial dissipates.

 

“I love you, Luke.”

 

“I know.”

  


_I can guide you_

 

 

Han’s trying not to cry, so Luke does it for the both of them. There, those are the words that seal it. Any glimmer of hope that Luke had been carrying around like the cruelest burden falls from his shoulders, and in a way it’s freeing. If this is the extent of the love he will get from Han, the purely platonic and chummy kind, then okay. Might as well bask in it. But Luke isn’t ready yet, and that damned, persistent selfish part of himself wants Han to know it. Wants hims to feel like shit too, even if the fool doesn’t deserve it for once.

 

 

_Lift those eyes, lift your eyes_

 

 

Luke doesn’t move when Han takes the seat next to him, so close Luke can feel the heat of his blush. It’s an embarrassing situation for sure, and now it’s being rubbed in, salt on a wound. Luke also doesn’t move when Han clasps his hands and sets them on the table, as if making a business deal. He’s probably trying to sort this all out as if it were one, and honestly, Luke appreciates that. His gaze at the wall in front of him has gone blurry, but Han talks like they’re eye-to-eye.

 

“So… now that’s out there. Guess that means there’s less competition for the princess, right?” The nervous chuckle and sad attempt at a joke relieves Luke from his numbness, and he glances over at Han all teary and snotty and smiling. Han laughs at the sight, at the grace that comes with his joke making somewhat of a landing.

 

 

_I know that you're scared to death, running out of breath_

 

 

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Luke begs with what little voice he has at this point. Not so much to save face, but to save this. So it’s never brought up again and the friendship he has with Han stays untouched by his filthy, selfish hands. Hands that Han seems to have no problem with slipping into his own to wrap Luke’s arms around his body, holding Luke in his own arms just as tight.

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, kid.”

 

Han’s voice doesn’t let on to any of his own hurt, but Luke doesn’t need to hear it to feel it. They’re both thinking the same thing. If his grip on Luke’s heart will ever go away. But Luke’s learned that what if’s are always, always make-believe. So for now, he just needs to make himself and Han believe that the way he loves Han won’t be of any problem at all. That they have nothing to worry about, and nothing to be afraid of.

 

  
_But I can hold you, hold you_

**Author's Note:**

> don't worry. luke gets over it and accepts a great platonic love with han and the movies proceed as they normally do. the best skysolo is the kind that hurts :-)
> 
> it's so fucking late tho, like in all seriousness this is shit bc i wanted to write something in one sitting since i havent done that in a while and now it's four in the mourning, spelling intentionallllll
> 
> florebits on tumblr if you wanna party-harty


End file.
